


too many colours (enough to drive all of us insane)

by scarlettroses



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Jack Kelly is a POC, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, an obscene amount of sentimental hugs, because he always is in my writing but lets make it clear, jack has adhd and a tic disorder, not between jack and davey tho!!, ohohoho boy folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettroses/pseuds/scarlettroses
Summary: once again, if jack were into guys like that, he'd date the hell out of davey. surely there's gotta be someone out there with elevated enough taste to appreciate him for all that he is.-jack kelly is straight. his roommate is gay. it’s not weird.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Comments: 63
Kudos: 101





	1. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now this fic is gonna be fun!
> 
> i'd like to thank fizz (@jack-kellys on tumblr) for sending me a random prompt that sent me on a character development spiral that ultimately turned itself into this! also a huge shoutout to penzy (@penzyroamin on tumblr) for memeing about this plot with me while i turned it into something substantial. 
> 
> hopefully only 4-5 chapters here, and updates will happen god knows when. i have a few fics on the go rn because im a scatterbrained mess and like to have a million tabs open in my brain- this fic is currently taking up a pretty large portion so fingers crossed i can keep this momentum!
> 
> i hope you all have as much fun reading this as i'm having writing it! i can promise rn it'll be my good ol blend of humour and angst (and spelling words like colour and humour the canadian way in case you noticed that in the title). enjoy!!!

Jack Kelly has a gay roommate.

It's not weird.

It's really not. He's straight, his roommate is gay, and there's absolutely nothing weird about it. He's got plenty of gay friends— in fact, his little brother is gay, so he's lived with a gay guy before— and nothing about his gay roommate is any different from a not-gay roommate. Oh god, _gay_ doesn't even sound like a real word anymore. He's overthinking this.

Davey is, like, the coolest person he's ever met. Jack really does love living with him— he's so smart, and he's ridiculously nice to everyone he meets, and he's endearingly awkward, and he's unfairly attractive, and okay... Jack doesn't have a _crush_ on him, no matter how incriminating that sounded. Davey's not attractive in _that_ way, not to Jack, but he's a really nice guy and he's aesthetically pleasing— that's it. The roman nose, the strong jaw, those goddamn ocean eyes... he's the ultimate muse for practice sketching, and he'd also be an absolute catch for anyone who _does_ like guys in that way.

That's why Jack is so intent on setting him up with someone.

You see, Jack considers himself somewhat of a relationship guru. He doesn't have much luck himself, but that's simply because coaches don't play— single friends give the best advice, and he's happy to take on that role. He even set up two of his ex-girlfriends with each other when he realized they both liked chicks on the down-low, so it's clear he'll stop at nothing to get the people he cares about into happy relationships, and he can now add _closet-lesbian whisperer_ to his resume.

Davey is a tough case to crack, though. None of the gay dudes Jack knows seem good enough for him— he's way out of everybody's league. He doesn't seem to have a type either, at least not one that Jack can pin down, so it's all the more frustrating.

"Hey," Davey says, poking his head into Jack's room and interrupting his mile-a-minute thoughts. "Are you, uh... gonna be home tonight?"

Jack looks up and pulls an earbud out, and Davey's sheepish expression makes his meaning crystal clear.

"I'll stay in my room with my headphones turned up if that's what you're asking," Jack replies, amused. "I don't mind if you have someone over, but if it weirds you out having me here, I can probably go chill at Spot's."

Davey flushes, like he's embarrassed that Jack caught on to his not-so hidden meaning. He's got his phone in hand, probably in the middle of texting his booty call, and he somehow expected that Jack wouldn't pick up on it.

"Oh, no, _I'm_ fine with it if you're here, I just-" Davey cuts himself off, oh-so awkward and flustered. "Well, I thought I'd make sure that you, like... _whatever_. I don't know what I was trying to say. If you're cool with it, I'm cool with it, so I'm gonna invite him over for ten-ish. Just ignore us, if you don't mind. We'll hang out in my room."

Jack rolls his eyes, unable to stop himself from laughing a little.

"No worries, bro. If anything, I'm just proud of you for laying some pipe. Nice work."

Davey snorts.

" _Laying pipe..._ God, you're such a frat boy it _hurts_ sometimes."

"Once a Sigma Chi, always a Sigma Chi!" Jack laughs, making a show of acting as obnoxiously fratty as he possibly can, fist-pumping and shouting. "New Mexico State forever, go Aggies!"

Davey simply shakes his head, obviously somewhat amused, but _so_ over Jack's ridiculousness.

"You're so annoying," he chuckles. "I'm gonna go shower."

He walks away, and the soft thunk of the shower turning on comes just a few moments later. Jack tries to get back to the commission he's been sketching— he pops his earbuds back in, twiddles his pencil a little, and frowns.

For whatever reason, he's suddenly a little irritated.

-

"So... how was your date?"

They're both up at the ass-crack of dawn, Davey simply because he's an early riser, and Jack because he has to take off for work. Jack is packing a lunch, Davey's making coffee with his fancy French press, and it's by all means a regular Monday morning.

Davey snorts at Jack's question.

"Hardly a date," he laughs. "An old hookup from college was back in town, so we figured we'd hang out again for old time's sake. It was very... straight to the point. I even told him he could stay the night, but he took off anyways."

That's sort of sad, but Davey doesn't seem hurt by it in the slightest, really just amused. He pushes down the plunger on the coffee press and then pours it out into his mug and Jack's travel tumbler.

"We need to find you a real man," Jack says, as he tosses a random assortment of snacks into his lunch bag. "I take matchmaking very seriously, y'know."

"I know," Davey replies, not quite annoyed but definitely slightly exasperated. "You set up my sister with Kath, and Spot with Race, and whoever with whoever else... I know you're good, but I might be a bit of a lost cause here. I've never had a steady boyfriend; I'm just not good at dating, I think."

The problem, in Jack's opinion, is that Davey doesn't _realize_ he's such a catch, so he winds up settling for guys who hit him up for one night and leave as soon as they're done. He deserves so much better than men who treat him like shit, and Jack simply has no idea how to get him to see that.

"Nope, don't you dare talk bad about yourself," Jack says, as he grabs his lunch bag and very gratefully takes the coffee Davey made him. "I'm gonna find you a boyfriend if it's the last thing I do, Jacobs. I gotta go, but we'll talk about this later, alright? I'm committed to the cause now, and I'll keep an eye out for eligible bachelors all day."

Davey simply rolls his eyes and follows Jack to the door to hand him the water bottle he forgot to pack.

"Sure. Do your absolute worst, Kelly."

-

Work isn't exactly the best place to scout out a man, considering that he's surrounded primarily by high-schoolers all day, but Jack figures he can at least get some fresh opinions here.

He's a youth outreach worker in a low-income school, putting his BA in social work to good use, and his job mostly consists of trying to connect with kids and be the trusted adult that some of them simply don't have elsewhere. Sometimes connecting with the kids means getting questionable relationship advice from teenagers, just to give them something to talk about, so he's explained his predicament to the small group of kids that like to spend their lunch hour in his office.

"I think Mr. Peters might be gay, if your roommate's into older men," Romeo offers from where he's sprawled out on a ratty old armchair that Jack stole from the staff room.

"Ew," Smalls retorts, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "He's like _sixty_. And Jack is... I don't know, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-eight," Jack corrects, "but I'm flattered. My skincare must be working."

"Well, is your roommate the same age as you?" Boots chimes in— these kids and their nicknames, seriously. Jack knows everyone's real names because he's got access to their student files, but he wouldn't dare use them in conversation. "We don't know the whole story here."

"Yes, he's my age," Jack laughs. "And I definitely don't see him going for anyone older than, like, thirty-five— especially not a balding history teacher. Let's keep things reasonable."

"How 'bout seventeen?" Romeo grins. "I'm single! It's only— fuck, I'm bad at math, hold on— an eleven year age gap! That's hardly anything."

Before Jack can even say anything to that, Smalls reaches over and punches Romeo in the arm. Not quite how Jack would've handled it, but probably more effective.

"You're an idiot," she says, with an eye roll that only a sixteen year-old girl can muster. "Not even boys your own age like you."

Just as Jack is about to remind them that the sign on his office door _explicitly_ states to treat people with kindness (yes it's technically Harry Styles merch, but it's not like the pop star actually came up with that saying, so Jack can totally steal it for himself), the bell rings.

"Alright, get to class," he sighs, giving Boots a pointed look when they don't seem particularly inclined to move from the beanbag chair in the corner. "Seriously. If I find out any of you missed class this week without a good reason, I'm not bringing snacks on Friday. Not good ones, at least."

While Jack keeps his drawers stocked with granola bars and juice boxes that anyone can have at any time, Fridays are when he usually brings donuts or cookies— but the kids have to make him proud if they really want them. This is apparently enough motivation for Boots, since they quickly jump up to follow their friends out of the room.

"See ya tomorrow, Mr. Kelly!" they call as they leave.

"For the last time, kid," Jack shouts behind them, "it's just Jack!"

-

Jack finds himself sort of burnt out by the end of the day, which isn't unusual.

Work can take a bit of a mental toll on him, especially given the fact that he grew up attending a school a lot like the one he now works in. There's kids dealing with addiction, poverty, messy family issues, and everything else one might imagine— and Jack often finds himself powerless to help, despite his best efforts.

Just this afternoon, he had a meeting with a fifteen year-old girl who's in foster care and about to become a mother herself. The system is more than likely going to take her baby away to be fostered by a different family, so she wants to drop out of school and try to take care of it herself, but that would mean missing out on her education and not having the means to look after a child, and there's absolutely no good solution here. All possible outcomes _suck_. Jack has no idea how to help her, and he's now sitting on the train home thinking about how his own mother lived through exactly the same dilemma. She never ended up being able to get him out of the system— she stopped trying after a few years, as far as Jack knows— so he bounced from home to home for his entire childhood until finally landing with Medda when he was sixteen. He really hopes it turns out better for this girl, but there's a lot of factors at play that make it not-so-promising.

He sighs heavily, garnering some confused and concerned looks from the people around him. Maybe he'll tell his student some of his own story, if only to make her feel less alone— though he hopes it's not too depressing. He'll have to stick to the happier parts.

He trudges home back to his apartment once he's reached his stop, and he thanks god for the blissful silence inside. Davey isn't home yet, Jack is alone, and he can just lie down on the couch and rest for a bit. He's sort of hungry, but his exhaustion outweighs it, so he passes right by the kitchen to flop onto the sofa.

He holds a throw pillow over his face for a moment and screams into it— a coping mechanism Medda taught him back when he was a delinquent teen with untreated ADHD and all kinds of trauma. Sometimes the simplest of solutions, like screaming it out, are the best ones.

"Okay," he mumbles to himself once that's over with, slowly trying to take some deep breaths. "I'm fine. Long day... but I'm fine. I'm not losing it, not at all."

And he closes his eyes for a nap.

-

He wakes up to the feeling of a blanket being draped over his shoulders.

He blinks awake to see Davey— sweet angel Davey— walking back towards the kitchen, where it smells like he must be cooking something. How long did he sleep for? Jesus, never mind that, how did he get so lucky as to live with the actual nicest person on the planet?

He rubs at his eyes as he sits up and yawns. A glance at his watch tells him he was out for nearly two hours— apparently he was _really_ tired.

"Fuck, did I wake you up?" Davey asks, peeking into the living room. "I was trying to be as quiet as I could."

"Oh no, it's fine, I slept way too long." Jack laughs, standing up to join him in the kitchen with the blanket still wrapped around him. There's a baking dish in the oven, and a number of ingredients and dishes still sitting out on the counter. Jack tries to mentally add them up to figure out what's cooking, and— "Oh my god, are you making enchiladas? You're the _best_ , Davey."

"I know you like them, and you looked like you could use a little pick-me-up," Davey replies with a sheepish smile. "Long day?"

Jack laughs, but it sort of dissolves into a sigh.

"You can say that again. I needed that nap." He dips a finger into the pot sitting next to the sink and tastes some of the leftover sauce. "Fuck, that's good. Anyways, I'm all refreshed now, so we can get down to business on your boyfriend hunt."

Davey raises his eyebrows as he continues to put ingredients away.

"What, you didn't find my Prince Charming on your morning train or something? I thought you had some kind of magic matchmaking skills."

"It's a _process_. I don't even know what kind of guy you like! You haven't exactly given me much to work with."

Davey turns around to face Jack, and leans against the counter with an expression that reads as: _fine, I'll play along._

"Okay... I like a guy who's living and breathing, and isn't an asshole," he says, his words dripping with amused sarcasm. "Bonus points if he, like, washes his face and doesn't scratch his junk in public."

"Oh, come _on_ ," Jack groans. "You've gotta have higher standards than that! If you don't take this seriously, I can't help you."

Davey simply shrugs.

"I don't know what to tell you," he laughs. "I'll settle for any guy who actually likes me— I don't think they exist. I'm just keeping your options open."

Davey is laughing and smiling, but Jack feels a little frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. The fact that Davey thinks so little of himself is disconcerting— he's good-looking, he's smart, he's kind, he loves his mom— he's basically a dream guy! Once again, if Jack were into guys like that, he'd date the _hell_ out of Davey. Surely there's gotta be someone out there with elevated enough taste to appreciate him for all that he is.

-

The week drags on, and Jack is so tired.

By the time he gets to Friday (his lunch hour crew does earn themselves the donuts, by the way,) he thinks he might need to sleep for the whole weekend. Monday seemed to be the blueprint for the rest of the week, because every day has been just as draining— he loves his job, but he's the only one doing it at a fairly massive school and he's being stretched pretty thin. He tries to put his all into helping every student that needs him, but it gets hard when he only seems them in short appointments because there's so many others that need him too.

Not only that, but trying to find a man for Davey has been a bust so far. Not that he's had the mental energy to spend _that_ much time on it, but so far every guy he's considered as an option hasn't been quite right— Jack prides himself on setting up relationships that just _fit_. Like Spot and Race, for example: Jack introduced them, and they were an item less than a month later! And Spot is Jack's baby brother, so the stakes were pretty high on that one. He _knows_ he can do this.

On Saturday morning, he wakes up with a slight amendment to his original plan. Maybe the guy doesn't have to be perfect at first glance— he just needs to get Davey out on a date or two to start narrowing this down. He'll choose a guy that seems pretty good, maybe send them on some kind of blind date, and just see how it works out! If nothing else, it'll help cement an idea of the kind of person Davey actually likes for future reference, and best case scenario it'll work out perfectly between them.

He sighs and rolls over in bed, not willing to get up yet, and grabs his phone to get to work.

**_To: Spottie, Racer_ **

**_Jack_ ** _: mornin fellas :) i need some gay advice please_

**_Racer_ ** _: morning?? it's 2pm did you just wake up_

**_Spottie_ ** _: gay advice... what on earth_

**_Jack_ ** _: who cares what time it is, we have much more pressing issues here. where do gay ppl go on dates, and do either of you know any eligible candidates to go on one w davey? they don't have to be perfect, just good enough for testing the waters and getting him out there_

There's a long several minutes of no reply, during which Jack is sure Race and Spot are talking aloud to each other about how ridiculous this is. Maybe they're brainstorming together. Finally, Jack's phone buzzes.

**_Race_ ** _: we go to restaurants and bars and stuff like regular ppl dipshit. shouldn't you be asking davey what kind of dates he likes to go on??_

**_Spottie_ ** _: i have a coworker that might fit the bill actually? he's gay and single and pretty cute. idk him that well but he seems nice enough, might be worth a shot_

Okay... there's a start. A restaurant or a bar with Spot's coworker doesn't sound like a half-bad plan— Davey can report back what he liked and what he didn't, and they can go on from there with a better outline of who might be perfect for him.

**_Racer_ ** _: cute, huh? :/_

**_Spottie_ ** _: not as cute as you obv_

**_Jack_ ** _: can't you guys just do this out loud? you live together... thanks for the help tho and please get me that coworkers number if possible_

He tosses his phone aside and drapes an arm over his face. The sunlight filtering in around his curtains is almost enough to light up the whole room— considering that it's already well past midday— and he can hear Davey moving around and doing something elsewhere in the apartment, but he considers going back to sleep anyways.

No, that would be ridiculous. He needs to eat something anyways, and sleeping for quite literally an entire day would just be overkill. He's tired, but not _that_ tired. With a mental count of three to prepare, he finally pushes himself out of bed. He throws on a shirt, runs a hand through his hair, and walks out to the living room.

Davey is working out. He's got some kind of fitness video pulled up on his laptop, with a trainer shouting all kinds of encouragements, and Davey himself is holding a plank on the living room floor. He's sweaty and shirtless, and in a totally bro-to-bro way, Jack has to admit that he looks _really_ good. He's not overtly muscular, but he's naturally thin so the muscles he _does_ have are obvious. It's rather impressive, to say the least.

Jack isn't _attracted_ to him. That would be crazy, right? Davey is just his cool gay friend, who has a shockingly good body, and also the sweetest personality he's ever encountered. His friend who's so humble it veers into self-deprecation, and who does so much for others out of the goodness of his own heart. Anyone with two eyes and brain would admire him, wouldn't they? _Surely_ they do. The fact that he's hot too is just a bonus. He must have a whole swath of secret admirers that he simply doesn't acknowledge because he's so shy and self-conscious about that kind of thing. Jack can't be the _only_ one who sees him like this.

Jack swallows. He's staring, and it's weird, so sneaks past Davey and heads for the kitchen without a word. It's only when he closes the fridge a little louder than intended that Davey must notice his presence.

The video cuts off abruptly, and there's some rustling in the living room that makes Jack peek out from the kitchen. Davey has thrown his shirt on with lightning speed, shut his laptop, and he's now frantically wiping the sweat from his face. For whatever reason, it almost seems as if he's humiliated that he's been caught working out.

"Hey," he says, when he finally sees Jack, his eyes wide and his next words tumbling right out of his mouth rapid-fire. "I didn't see you all morning, so I thought maybe you weren't home. I, uh— this is so weird, I know— but like, sometimes when I'm home alone I try to work out? And it's like, why don't I just go to a gym, right, but I hate going to the gym because people can _stare_ , and I don't know what I'm doing so I look like a total idiot— but I probably look like _more_ of an idiot trying to do it at home! So, like... sorry, I guess."

Jack blinks.

"Okay, I'm not sure if I caught _all_ of that, but you definitely don't need to apologize." He raises his hands in front of him in surrender, as if to show that he's not a threat. "There's nothing wrong with getting your sweat on, dude. Gym or not, I don't really have room to judge, considering I don't work out at all. Good on you for having the motivation."

Davey rubs at the back of neck and sort of winces, clearly still somewhat embarrassed.

"Ugh, sorry," he sighs, apologizing yet again. "I swear, I'm so awkward sometimes, I don't know how people put up with me. I'm just gonna, like, go change into regular clothes... and we can pretend this conversation never happened."

Jack watches him go, not quite sure what to say. Why does he let Davey say those mean things about himself, when if someone else were saying it he might be inclined to punch their lights out for being so rude? Why didn't he say something, just now? Why isn't he _helping_? That's what he _does_. Jack Kelly is a giver and a helper by nature, and yet he's not successfully done any of that for Davey, who deserves it more than anyone. This isn't fair, is it?

He blinks and frowns a little to himself as he turns back to the fridge.

The boyfriend thing will help. He'll set Davey up with someone who will love him as fiercely and passionately as he deserves, and _that_ will finally help. It has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so!! how are we feelin folks? where do we see this going?? ;) pretty pretty please leave a comment!
> 
> as always, i'm @thefactsofthematter on tumblr, and you're more than welcome to pop into my inbox with thoughts or questions abt this! i'd be happy to ramble about these characterizations for DAYS, and i can't wait to take a closer look at both jack and davey as the story goes on.
> 
> til next time! :)


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things are about to get very gay around here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!!
> 
> why, dear god, have i spent so much time on this fic while drowning in midterms and assignments? so many words in this chapter, and so few words done of the psychology paper i need to finish.... my brain works in mysterious ways, i suppose.
> 
> but hey, yall got another chapter out of my school procrastination, so at least someone's winning here! no warnings for this chapter aside from some discussion of homophobia! we get to meet crutchie, as well as find out some more about davey's mysterious love interest (who wound up being an oc i just made up btw, since none of the canon characters really fit how i wanted for that role! i did like seeing some predictions of who it would be tho)
> 
> enjoy!

Matt, Spot's gay coworker, seems... _fine_.

Just as Spot had said, he's nice enough, and he seems enthused at the prospect of a blind date— he mentioned in one of their messages back and forth that he's been in and out of relationships for a while, and he's ready to find something more steady. He said he originally thought Spot was trying to prank him when he asked if he'd be interested in this whole blind-date scheme, but now that he's been talking with Jack to try and get the actual date set up, he seems pretty on-board despite the craziness of it all. He's friendly, not-bad-looking according to the selfie he sent, a little boring, and it all seems to sum up into a man that's entirely mediocre.

It's just an experiment, Jack has to remind himself— he's so particular about this, and the fact that Matt doesn't seem _perfect_ for Davey is sort of rubbing him the wrong way, but he doesn't _have_ to be perfect just yet. He's someone for Davey to meet, decide if he likes or not, and give Jack some feedback to continue the search. Even if the date is a miserable failure, at least it's a start.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Jack?"

They're sitting in the living room, a couple hours before the date is set to take place. Davey is obviously anxious, because he's doing that thing where he picks at the skin around his fingernails until it's all red and raw. The tv is on, but he doesn't appear to be watching it, just caught up in his own head.

"Of course it's a good idea," Jack laughs, hoping that being as nonchalant as possible will help calm Davey down. "There's literally nothing to lose— if you don't like him, we block him and learn from the experience. If you _do_ like him, great! I mean, you've been on dates before, this is no different."

"It _is_ different, though," Davey grumbles, pulling his knees up to his chest where he sits on the couch. "I don't even know anything about this guy— normally I've at least seen a Tinder profile."

"Well, you know he works with Spot, so he's probably a nurse— or maybe even a doctor," Jack offers. " _And_ Spot works in pediatrics, so this guy must be good with kids. We can make plenty of inferences here."

Davey nods, but this doesn't seem to comfort him much.

"Okay, but he doesn't know anything about _me_ ," he sighs, "so it'll just be a letdown when he actually sees me! He's probably got his hopes up for someone, like... cool and hot. And I'm just _me_."

A few weeks ago, Jack might've brushed that off as just Davey's sense of humour, the way he doesn't take himself too seriously and often makes snide little comments at his own expense. Now, though, it makes Jack's heart hurt a little. It's upsetting to see that Davey doesn't think of himself the same way Jack does.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he groans. "You're incredible, Jacobs. You're smart, you're one hell of a nice person, and— man-to-man— you're _super_ fucking hot. What's not to love?"

" _Man-to-man_ ," Davey imitates with an eye roll. "Well, it's good to hear my straight friend thinks I'm hot. Really helps with the dating situation."

"Hey, I have _eyes_ ," Jack whines. "I can appreciate an attractive man. If I were gay, I'd totally have a crush on you."

Was that weird to say? Davey's eyebrows furrow a little, and he looks over to Jack seeming something between confused and amused, like he can't quite believe that just came out of Jack's mouth. Okay... it _was_ weird to say, but that's fine. Jack can roll with this. He'll just keep talking until it makes sense.

"I mean," he continues, trying to backpedal but probably just making it worse. "I _don't_. I'm not— I'm not gay. But, like, if I _were_... you know, you be kind of my type? Wait, no— that's not what I meant. You're _not_ my type, because my type isn't dudes, but if you were a _girl_ , I—" He cuts himself off and drops his head in his hands. "I'll shut up now."

Davey stares at him a moment longer, a confused smile spreading slowly across his face until he fully bursts into laughter.

"Okay," he wheezes. "I get what you're saying, pal. Maybe in another universe— one where you're gay— we'd make a good couple."

Jack nods, still too embarrassed to look up, but unable to keep from laughing along.

"Right. One where I'm—" His words die in his throat for a second as he has a fleeting thought about how happy he might be in that universe. He and Davey _would_ make a good couple. He coughs to cover up the way his own thoughts have just wrangled him into a chokehold, and then tries to keep laughing. "One where I'm gay."

"I should go get ready," Davey sighs after a moment, once their laughter has trickled out. He's still smiling wide, so at least he's not caught up in his nerves like he was a few minutes ago. "I guess I still need a boyfriend for _this_ universe."

Jack is left to sit on the couch and try to distract himself from thoughts of how lovely alternate-universe Jack's life might be.

-

The first time someone ever came out to Jack was when he and Race were fifteen.

They'd spent an evening with some other friends, hanging out in Race's bedroom and gaming until midnight or so when everyone else had curfews to get home to. Jack didn't, though— the foster home he was in at the time was neglectful at best and outright abusive at worst, and Race knew that. The offer to stay the night had gone unspoken, as it so often did.

Jack was settled in on the air mattress, ready for bed, when Race spoke up.

"How old were you when you knew you were into girls? Like, wanted to date them and stuff."

Jack shrugged. Truthfully, he'd never given it much thought. It was just one of those natural realities of life, wasn't it?

"Eleven?" he settled on. "Twelve? I dunno, probably around the age I got my first boner or something. Why?"

Race was quiet for a moment, contemplating. He'd been a little off all night, a bit more withdrawn than usual.

"I don't think I've felt that," he eventually said. "Not yet, at least."

"Your first boner? Nothing wrong with being a late bloomer, bro. It'll happen eventually."

"What? No! Oh my god, what? I meant liking girls! Of course I've had a boner before, you dumbass." Race then threw a pillow at Jack, which dinged him right in the forehead. "God, I was trying to have some kind of deep moment. I don't know if I like girls at _all_ , is what I was trying to tell you. I think I might be gay."

Jack had been a little caught off guard by that, but not entirely surprised. He'd never considered the idea of Race being gay before, but it sort of makes sense.

"Oh," he finally said. "Cool. Good for you, man."

"And I'm not, like, trying to come on to you," Race elaborated rather frantically, though Jack certainly hadn't been thinking that to begin with. "I don't like you like that, okay? This is just... I don't know. You're my best friend, and I thought you should know. I've never told anyone before."

Jack wasn't sure what to say, mostly because he wasn't sure what Race wanted to hear. Race, with his tendency to never take anything too seriously, didn't seem the type to want a sentimental hug, or some kind of profound statement.

"You're _not_ hitting on me?" Jack wound up saying, clutching his chest in mock offense. "What am I doing wrong? It's my hair, isn't it?"

Race laughed abruptly, almost like he was surprised that the giggle bubbled out of him. There was _finally_ a smile on his face, though, which was the outcome Jack was hoping for.

"Shut the fuck up," he groaned, finally flopping down on his bed to stare at the ceiling. "You're a stupid, rotten douchebag, but thanks for being so chill about this. It means a lot."

Jack threw Race's pillow back to him, grinning when it landed unceremoniously on his face.

"For sure. I've always got your back, dude."

-

Jack has never, ever considered himself to be homophobic. Not in the slightest. His little brother and his childhood best friend are gay and married to each other, and he set them up in the first place. He's _obviously_ fine with gay people.

So why is it that the idea of Davey out on a date with a man is so distressing? He left an hour ago, and Jack has been in an entirely weird mood ever since. He obviously has no reason to be bothered by the fact that Davey is on a date— so is it really the the _gay_ thing that's bugging him? It shouldn't be. That makes no sense.

"I think I'm just worried it won't go well," he sighs, picking at the leftovers he'd reheated, with Crutchie on FaceTime. "I can't convince myself to like Matt, y'know? There's nothing _wrong_ with him, but I don't think he'll be right for Davey. It's bugging me."

"I think you're overthinking it," Crutchie replies. "Davey's a grown up, he can decide for himself if he likes this Matt guy, and he can handle a bad date if it's not working out. You're putting too much pressure on yourself." He pauses, and they've known each other for long enough that Jack knows exactly what's coming next. "Work's stressing you out, isn't it?"

Jack groans. In college, it was fun to let Crutchie try to psychoanalyze him because he was an undergrad psychology major who had no idea what he was doing. Now that he's got a PhD and he's an actual therapist, it's significantly less entertaining and far more introspective, because he's almost always _right_.

"God, don't try to do your _shrink_ thing with me, Charles. Work is fine. I'm fine. You always manage to get me talking— I don't know how you do it. I called you so we could catch up and I _wouldn't_ have to think about my problems."

"So there _are_ problems?"

"There'll be a _problem_ when I fly out to Santa Fe and strangle you." Jack grumbles, glaring at Crutchie through the screen. "Tell me about something that doesn't matter. I need to turn my brain off."

Crutchie hums, thinking it over.

"My cat is pregnant," he eventually lands on with a laugh. "She's a rescue, and the SPCA told me she was spayed, but she got out at some point and now she's, like, _super_ pregnant... so apparently she wasn't. God knows how many kittens are in there."

Jack swallows. Just the mention of pregnancy reminds him of his student from last week, the young girl who wanted to keep her baby out of the foster system. He got word yesterday that, against the school administration and Jack himself's advice, she decided to drop out. Her birth parents, while not really in the picture, signed off on it for some reason, so no one could stop her. Jack worries immensely for her.

When Jack doesn't respond quick enough, Crutchie hones in on it.

"Something's bugging you."

"A lot of things are bugging me. If I wanted to talk about them, I'd pay you for a therapy appointment," Jack sighs. He forces himself to smile and wills his own mind to just take a goddamn break for a few minutes. "Let me help you come up with kitten names. We could have some kind of cute little theme for the whole litter— it'll be adorable."

Crutchie doesn't seem convinced— perhaps the therapist in him has some kind of urge to get Jack to share what's the matter and get it off his chest— but after a moment he laughs and shakes his head.

"Sure. I'm thinking maybe the Avengers, got any better ideas?"

-

Davey gets home fairly late in the evening.

Jack has dragged out an easel to the living room and he's been painting ever since he and Crutchie finished talking— he's not a trained artist by any means, but he likes to think he's pretty decent, and he does the occasional commission for Medda or her friends. His current project is a series of little paintings for decor at his "aunt's" new lake house upstate— she's really just Medda's best friend, but they're so close that they're practically family, and he'll probably end up spending the odd summer weekend at said lake house.

He's so immersed in the art that he almost doesn't even notice the door open— he jumps a little when he hears Davey's footsteps somewhere behind him.

"You're back!" He drops his paintbrushes with a clatter as Davey comes into the room. "Hi! Okay, you're smiling... that's a good sign. How'd it go?"

The best word Jack can come up with to describe Davey's demeanour right now is... _pleased_. He's got a ghost of a smile on his face as he pulls his jacket off, and while Jack is still worried that Matt wasn't perfect, it seems like he must not have been _that_ bad.

"It was good," Davey says, and it almost seems like he's going to leave it at that until he notices Jack's obnoxiously raised eyebrows prompting him for more. He laughs and then continues. "I had fun, and Matt was really sweet. We went out for ice cream after dinner, and then he even walked me home— we're gonna hang out again some time next week." He pauses for a moment with a giddy sort of grin on his face, and then sighs happily. "Thank you so much for setting this up, Jack."

Jack should be overjoyed. This is the happiest he's seen Davey in ages— and his plan _worked_! The date went great, Matt clearly wasn't as bad as previously anticipated, and his matchmaking skills prevailed once again even though he was unsure of this one. All things considered, he should be thrilled.

For some strange reason, there's a split second where he feels sort of like he's been punched in the stomach. Maybe he's just disappointed he doesn't get to play the matchmaking game anymore.

"I'm so glad it worked!" he laughs, forcing himself to swallow down the unpleasant feeling. He has _no_ reason to be upset about this, so maybe Crutchie was right about stress from work getting to him— the brain is a weird place. "You have to tell me everything. Did he kiss you goodnight?"

He grabs Davey by the arm and pulls him over to the couch, not about to let him get all shy and coy after a big night like this.

"He did," Davey laughs, in a good enough mood to entertain Jack's dramatics. "I wasn't really expecting it, but... uh, he really just went for it, which was interesting. It was sweet, I guess."

"So he was a little too forward, then?"

"I dunno, I didn't mind," Davey chuckles. "He was really confident, which was nice— whenever I started clamming up and getting awkward, he was good at keep the conversation going."

"So he talked too much, maybe?" Jack isn't sure why he's searching so hard for the negatives, maybe still stuck on his hypothesis that Matt wouldn't be perfect. He might as well be straight-up about it. "Speaking as your love guru, was there anything you didn't like, or did we hit the nail on the head on the first try?"

Davey hums for a moment, thinking it over.

"All that comes to mind was when he mentioned his _psycho ex_." He cringes a little as he says it. "It kinda my fault it came up, though, since I asked how long he'd been single— but I feel like talking shit about exes on a first date is a little weird."

"Definitely."

"But that was, like, thirty awkward seconds of the whole date, so I won't hold it against him," Davey continues. "It's not like he went on some crazy rant— just made a weird comment. Otherwise, he was _great_. You did good, Jackie."

 _Jackie_. Davey doesn't usually call him that. No one calls him that except when Spot is teasing him— Jack typically hates the nickname. It sounded so _sincere_ coming from Davey, though, that he's not even mad about it.

"Glad I could be of service," he grins with a mock salute. "Hopefully your next date is just as good."

Davey laughs softly, and his smile is like nothing Jack has ever seen. He pokes his tongue out slightly between his teeth, which are just a little crooked— he's got such a unique smile, and Jack had never really noticed it until now. He's been noticing a _lot_ about Davey that he didn't before.

Maybe that's just what happens when you've been living together for a while— you get to know each other better. They've shared this apartment for a good two years now, so that's got to be it.

-

Monday morning comes all too quickly, and Jack is back at work.

Every week is practically the same, and perhaps it's a little monotonous, but he really does thrive on routine. He's scatterbrained and forgetful at the best of times— his adderall prescription can only do so much for him— so going into his office at the same time every day and working through his schedule is exactly what he needs to stay on track. He has no idea where he'd be without his Google calendar, since his workday is a constant flow of twenty-minute appointments with whoever needs to speak to him.

He's currently on a bit of a break, trying to get some paperwork done— he's getting a number of kids set up with volunteer programs in the city to help them do some good for the community. He's not sure who decided his dyslexic ass should be doing handwritten paperwork, considering that no one can probably read it, but for whatever reason these application forms need to be filled out by hand and then faxed. Who the _fuck_ still uses a fax machine, right? Well, apparently Jack does now. This shit is ridiculous.

He's in the middle of meticulously whiting-out yet another spelling error when there's a knock on his office door. He always keeps his door open, but he appreciates that most people still tap on it before just wandering in.

"Jack? Are you busy?"

It's Romeo, lingering nervously in the doorway, and looking almost like he might have been crying.

"Hey dude." Jack sets his paperwork aside. "I'm not doing anything important, come in." He pauses, hating to ask the dreaded question but knowing he should. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

Romeo winces as he comes in to sit hesitantly in the armchair.

"Yeah... I was in history, right, and I started feeling kinda sick? So I asked Ms. Clark if I could go to the bathroom, and she said it was fine, and then as soon as I got to the bathroom I think I had a _panic attack_ or something. It was crazy."

Jack's eyebrows shoot up. He's known Romeo for a few years— he started this job when the kid was a freshman, and now he's a senior— and he's never known him to be particularly anxious. He's happy-go-lucky and always confident; nothing typically gets to him. Jack could see him getting along rather well with Race, if they were the same age.

"A panic attack, huh?" Jack asks. "Are you alright now? Do you need anything?"

Romeo simply shrugs.

"I guess I'm fine. It was weird— I was, like, crying and freaking out, but then it passed and I was okay. I think I just need to calm down before I go back to class, so I was hoping I could sit here for a bit."

Romeo's expression very clearly says that there's more to the story than he's letting on— his face reads like a book— and Jack supposes it's sort of his job to ask. Even if Romeo doesn't want to talk about it, at least the option is there; and really, why would he _be_ here if he didn'twant to talk? He could've easily gone off somewhere by himself.

"You know what, how about I just let Ms. Clark know you're with me with the rest of the period?" he says, and Romeo smiles gratefully. Jack stands up to close the office door, and then sits down in one of the other chairs so that his desk isn't between them anymore. "Wanna tell me what's going on? I know you're not the kind of guy to start having panic attacks out of nowhere, so something happened, hey?"

Romeo nods. His eyes are glued to his own feet, and he's sitting on his own hands as if he doesn't know what to do with them. He takes a deep breath, and Jack can tell he's working up the courage to talk.

"I came out to my mom last night," he finally says. "And it was so _stupid_ because I knew she wouldn't take it well... but it was like I just couldn'thold it in anymore. I was so sick of lying, you know?"

Jack nods. While he could obviously never understand the full scope of Romeo's situation, he thinks he might be empathetic enough to at least _kind of_ get it. He can feel for the kid, and he can recall Race going through something similar years ago. It's such a shitty hand to be dealt, growing up with an unsupportive family.

"That's really brave of you," Jack says. "I'm guessing it didn't go too well, though?"

"It could've been worse," Romeo mumbles, shrugging like he's trying to be nonchalant. "But, uh, it definitely wasn't good. I'm grounded— can't go anywhere except school and church. I think she wants me to, like, pray the gay away."

Jack sighs heavily. He's met Romeo's mother before; she's a very sweet lady, and seems to love her son very much. She probably thinks that, in some convoluted way, she's doing the right thing by reacting like this— steering him away from a path of sin or something. Jack doesn't doubt she's got decent intentions behind it all, but her execution is definitely... rough.

"I'm so sorry, bud." He leans over to put a hand on Romeo's arm, and waits until they finally make eye contact. "Listen... I'm so proud of you, okay? I know it didn't go how you wanted, but you had the confidence to tell her who you are. That's one step closer to her understanding— and for what it's worth, I think she'll come around. She really loves you, and as long as you keep on being yourself, she'll see that the only way to love you is exactly as you are." He pauses, and smiled gently. "You did the right thing, Romeo."

This finally gets the kid to crack a smile. He averts his eyes again, but smiles to himself, and it seems like he must agree with what Jack said. He's loved, and his mom is a little confused right now, but they'll be okay.

Honestly, Jack couldn't be prouder. He's always sort of admired people like Romeo or Race or Spot or even Davey— he supposes what that list of people has in common is that they're all gay, but the point still stands that they're all confident and open about who they are in the face of a world that tends to reject that. It's _cool_. In some strange way, he's always dreamed of having that kind of confidence to be fully himself— not that he's _gay_ , obviously, but it does feel like there's some parts of himself that he's not totally in touch with. He wishes he knew himself a little better, like anyone who's brave enough to come out must know themselves.

"Thanks Jack," Romeo says, and he's grinning in a way that absolutely warms Jack's heart. "Man, you always know what to say. You're the best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been staring at this chapter for long enough that i can't even tell if it's good or not, and lord knows i didn't proofread, but i just wanted to get it posted so uh,, there ya go! poor poor oblivious jack will get more in touch with his feelings soon, i promise! a couple times in this chapter he got SO CLOSE to figuring it out, but never quite put the pieces together.
> 
> please leave a comment!!! i'm always all awkward about replying, but do know that i read every comment over and over and they make me smile :) til next time!!


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jack kelly does NOT have a crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooo! 
> 
> i don't have much to say, but here's a quick warning: jack has some motor tics associated with his adhd/anxiety and this chapter mentions them a lot! i'll update the tags for it but i figured i'd put it here too, just in case that's something that you might not want to read about for whatever reason. i don't personally have tics but i did some reading on it, so i hope i've done the experience justice!
> 
> we finally get to meet matt in this one, and medda spot and race all make appearances too! i think this chapter's a pretty fun one, so please enjoy!! :)

Davey has a boyfriend.

It's been three weeks since the blind date with Matt, and now they've gone and made it official. Jack still isn't sure why he's not more excited.

"He stopped by my office on my lunch break," Davey gushes over dinner. "He had _flowers_. We went for a walk and got lunch, and he asked me to be his boyfriend, and it was so damn sweet. And really, this is all on you! Thank you again, Jack."

This _is_ all on him. Jack did this, because he insisted on setting Davey up with someone and he chose the first guy he could find, and he's still got this irrational bad feeling about Matt but it's too late to fix it because now they're actually dating. _Fuck_.

He can't explain why he doesn't like Matt. He hardly _knows_ him. They had a few brief text conversations weeks ago, which were completely fine, and now everything Davey's said about him has been wonderful. He's probably a great guy, but Jack simply can't stand the thought of him. He's not being fair, he knows, but sometimes gut feelings _aren't_ fair— that doesn't make them unworthy of trusting.

"That's super cute," Jack replies, with the most convincing smile he can muster. "I'm so happy for you— did I or did I not tell you I'd find you a boyfriend? And you didn't even _believe_ me at first."

Davey laughs, and Jack still finds himself sort of entranced by his smile.

"I guess you win. You really _are_ a matchmaker; maybe I'll have to find you a girlfriend next! Gay guys make great wingmen, y'know— all I have to do is throw out a _yasss queen, work!_ and girls are all over me."

Jack rolls his eyes as he stands up to clear the table. Davey is a rather impressive cook, so they usually eat together and Jack does most of the cleaning to make up for it. They've been teased by friends before for having a dynamic akin to an old married couple, and Jack wonders if that'll change at all with Davey in a relationship.

"I can't say I really _want_ a girlfriend right now," Jack replies as he loads the dishwasher, "but I appreciate the offer. I'll keep it in mind."

"Oh, come on," Davey whines. "Wouldn't it be cute? You'd make a great boyfriend, Jack— I'm sure of it. We just have to find you a girl!"

Jack turns to him with a sarcastically deadpan expression.

"I turned my last two girlfriends into lesbians," he says. "I was the last straw before giving up on men... _twice_. I think that's the _opposite_ of being a good boyfriend."

"Okay... in Sarah's defence, I was pretty sure she was a lesbian when she was captain of her middle school softball team and kept stealing my clothes," Davey offers, as he carries some dishes to the kitchen to hand to Jack. "A lot of warning signs on that one— it just took her a minute to realize, and I'm sure you had nothing to do with it."

"Oh gee, how comforting," Jack grumbles, taking a pot and setting it in the sink to rinse. "I don't turn girls gay, I attract closet lesbians. What an improvement."

Davey laughs hard at that, throwing an arm affectionately around Jack. He's so gentle in everything that he does, and Jack can't help but feel at ease.

"Cheer up, Jackie," he giggles. "The right person— who's _not_ a lesbian— will come along eventually."

Jack huffs. He's sure it's true, but he hasn't even got an idea in his head of what that person might be like. He has a terribly hard time picturing himself with a long-term girlfriend, let alone a wife, though he's sure he wants to get married someday. It's a bit of a dilemma, really.

"We can only hope," Jack sighs dramatically. "I guess I'll just have to live vicariously through your relationship for now."

Davey laughs again and hugs Jack a little tighter. He's not usually a touchy guy, but his good mood tonight seems to transcend everything— it almost makes Jack feels a little bad for not liking Matt, when he makes Davey this happy. 

-

Medda calls him once a week.

It's not like it's on a schedule or anything, but it's usually just on a weeknight when she knows he won't be up to much. She calls to _check in_ , like she's been doing since he first moved out— she just wants to know what he's up to and how he's doing, which is very sweet.

" _You sound tired, baby_ ," she says, which makes Jack marvel a little at how much she can pick up from just his voice. " _And I don't just mean sleepy— I mean totally exhausted. Are you doing alright? Is work okay?_ "

Jack laughs softly. He's sitting on his bed, it's late in the evening on a Wednesday night, and he's home alone because Davey is off at his boyfriend's place. It's sort of lonely— he'd gotten used to constantly having someone else in the apartment, since it wasn't often that Davey stayed the night anywhere, so it's jarring just how quiet it is.

"I'm a little drained, if I'm being honest," he chuckles, knowing better than to bother lying to her. "It's been a lot lately— the kids always hit kind of a mid-semester slump where they're sick of school and start acting out more, which makes me a whole lot busier. But, you know... I'm hanging in there. Always do."

This week has felt ridiculously long, and it's only Wednesday. He's been on his toes all day, every day— doing everything from breaking up fights in the halls, to spending an afternoon in court with a couple of kids facing truancy charges. He's made a ridiculous number of calls to parents and even a few to child services, and he's _beyond_ tired when he gets home every day. He loves his job dearly, but it's starting to feel like he might be spread a bit too thin. 

" _And you've been taking your meds?_ " Medda asks.

Jack rolls his eyes, though it's only out of fondness. She asks this every week— he can't blame her for worrying, since he _has_ gone through phases where he genuinely forgets for days at a time, but he's been good lately.

"Yes, Ma," he laughs. "The pill bottle with the timer on it was a game-changer— Davey doesn't even have to remind me anymore. My brain chemicals are as stable as they could possibly be, I promise."

Okay— _stable_ is a stretch, considering that his anxious tics have come back in full force in the past few days, but they always do when he's stressed, so he supposes it isn't really worth mentioning. They're entirely harmless: he scrunches his nose, jerks his head to the side, snaps his fingers, taps his desk... annoying little behaviours that help him get some energy out. They're fairly mild, only ever stress-induced, and apparently some sort of side effect of his ADHD medication, so he truly isn't that bothered about them.

Even thinking about tics tends to exacerbate them, though, so he's not at all surprised when he's struck with the urge to shrug his shoulders up to his ears. He does so a few times, trying to shake the feeling, and it finally passes.

" _Well, make sure you're taking it easy when you need to. You know I worry,_ " Medda sighs. She pauses a moment, as if to lay that topic to rest before moving on. " _How's Davey doing?_ "

"He's good," Jack replies. "He's got a new boyfriend, so he's over at his place tonight, but I don't mind having the apartment to myself."

" _A new boyfriend?_ " She sounds far more surprised than Jack would've expected her to be. " _Oh my... now how did that come about?_ "

Jack laughs, a little confused by her shock. Sure it's a little odd to hear about perpetually-single Davey in a relationship, but it's not _that_ crazy.

"I set him up on a blind date with one of Spot's work pals a while ago," he chuckles. "I don't know the guy that well, but he and Davey just clicked, I guess."

" _You set them up? Oh, your heart's too big for your own good, darling_ ," Medda sighs, sounding almost pitying. " _You keep taking care of yourself too, alright?_ "

"Uh, sure," Jack replies, not entirely sure why she's suddenly so concerned about him. "I mean, it's not like he's moving out yet or anything— he's just gone for a couple nights a week. He's one of my best friends, but we don't need to hang out twenty-four-seven. We're all good here."

" _Right... of course, baby_." She pauses, and then there's a faint beeping somewhere in the background. " _Oh, that'll be my cookies in the oven. I'll let you go sweetheart— make sure you stop by and pick some up one of these days._ "

"For sure," Jack chuckles. "Have a good night, Ma. I love you."

" _I love you too, darling_."

The call ends, and Jack is left to ponder what was up with the tail end of that conversation. It was like she felt bad for him, in the wake of Davey getting a boyfriend— maybe she's just antsy for grandkids and can't wait until Jack is in a relationship of his own to get started on that. He's the oldest child after all, though Spot is the one that's _married_ , so really the pressure should be on him, right?

Whatever. That was weird but Jack is tired, so instead of dwelling on it, he'll just go to bed.

-

Friday night finds Jack out for drinks with Spot and Race.

It's their usual bar, a little hole-in-the-wall owned by their friend Mush, and they've got a usual table in the back corner. There's typically some live music going, and a constantly rotating menu of pretentious craft beers and cocktails. They've occasionally got some other friends with them, since they try to do this every few weeks, but tonight it's just the three of them.

"Jack, oh my god," Spot says, as soon as Jack has sat down with a beer. "You're never gonna believe what Mom asked me."

Jack quirks an eyebrow as he sips his drink.

"She was being kind of weird on the phone the other day, what's up?"

Race and Spot share an amused and almost mischievous sort of look, like they're holding back laughter already, which makes Jack sort of nervous.

"I have no idea where she got this idea from," Spot giggles. "But she wanted to know how long ago you and Davey broke up."

Jack eyes go wide and he sputters a little over his drink, while the two assholes in front of him burst out laughing.

" _What_!?"

"That's what I said!" Race cackles. "Apparently she thought you two were secretly dating, and she couldn't figure out why you'd set him up with someone new!"

Jack leans forward to let his forehead thud on the table, unable to stop himself from laughing along at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Oh my god," he groans. " _That's_ why she gave me pity cookies. What the fuck? If I were datingDavey, I would've _told_ her. Why do people always assume I'm secretly gay?"

"Most of your friends are flaming homosexuals, and you dress nice? You came with us to a Carly Rae Jepsen concert?" Race offers. "It's basically a compliment, we're sort of elite."

Jack sighs as he sits back up and takes a long sip of his beer.

"Did you at least tell her we were never together?" There's a concerning beat of silence, while Jack's darling little brother seems to find the tabletop very interesting. " _Spot_... You told her the truth, right?"

"I mean... _eventually_ ," Spot acquiesces. "I might have made up a story about how heartbroken you were first. In my defence, it was hilarious."

"You're the fucking _worst_ ," Jack grumbles. "Messing with the poor woman's emotions— you're a demon."

As they continue to laugh at the situation, Jack is struck by the same thoughts he'd had weeks ago, about how he and Davey would probably make a good couple in another world. He can picture it, even— the mental image of kissing Davey crosses his mind for a second, and he doesn't dislike it as much as he ought to. It throws him off a little, however he can sort of see where Medda may have drawn her conclusions from. They're awfully domestic for a pair of roommates, and it wouldn't be that far-off to assume they've been kissing behind closed doors.

 _Weird_. Jack simply feels weird about it all.

The conversation moves on, though, and he manages to brush the thoughts from his mind. The reality is that even if Jack _were_ into Davey like that, he's already got Matt and it doesn't matter. He'd have no chance.

"Your tics are back," Race notes, once they're a couple drinks in. It would be a rude thing for anyone else to point out, but Jack is perfectly familiar with just how blunt his friend of nearly two decades can be. "You keep winking at me, and I know you don't like me _that_ much. Everything okay?"

Jack rolls his eyes, but then the fact that Race brought it up causes him to wink a few more times and twitch his head to the side with each one. That head-twitching tic is killer on the neck, so hopefully it's not one that sticks around too long.

"Just stress from work," Jack finally replies, as casual as can be. "It makes them flare up sometimes. I'm all good, though."

"Maybe you need a mental health day," Spot chimes in. "Call in sick, do something nice for yourself, you know?"

Wouldn't _that_ be nice... Jack can't even remember that last time he took a sick day, and he doesn't get summers off like a teacher either, considering that the extended curriculum and summer school kids are usually the ones who need him the most. This does mean he has a number of vacation days to use throughout the year (courtesy of a pretty sweet union contract he was able to talk his way into), but he never actually uses them. He _likes_ his job, first of all, so he doesn't mind going in every day, and he's also simply too worried about not being around to help whoever might need him.

"I couldn't," Jack sighs. "I'd feel bad not being there for the kids."

"How are you supposed to help them if you're so stressed your brain is short-circuiting?" Race asks. "Maybe you need a whole long weekend— book a few days off and go down to New Mexico or something. You've still got a bunch of friends down there, right? That other blonde twink you replaced me with in college?"

"Charlie?" Jack laughs. Crutchie and Race have never actually met, but Jack has a strong feeling that they'd get along swimmingly. "I guess that could be nice— I haven't seen him, or anyone down there really, since I moved back to New York."

Jack stuck around the Southwest for a couple years after college, hoping to settle down in Santa Fe, but New York ultimately called him home— he missed his family too much. New Mexico had its benefits: better weather, fresher air, more ways to tap into his Mexican heritage that he'd spent his childhood rather removed from; but it just wasn't home. Manhattan feels like where he belongs.

"You should seriously go visit," Spot says. "A break from work and some warm weather could probably really help."

Jack simply shrugs. His drink is empty, so he pushes himself up to go get a new one from the bar.

"I'll think about it," he concedes. "Maybe if I can find a cheap flight."

-

"Is it okay if Matt comes over for dinner tonight? I really want you to meet him."

It's Saturday morning, Jack is rather hungover, and the idea of hanging out with Davey's boyfriend that he's already got a bit of a grudge against is _nauseating_. He's laying on the couch, waiting for his Tylenol to kick in, and he's got half a mind to groan and beg Davey not to do this to him.

He's not quite that rude though, so he just shrugs.

"Works for me, I don't have plans."

He can feel Davey staring at him, so he removes the arm he'd dramatically draped over his eyes to glance up at him. There's an amused grin on Davey's face, which would be obnoxious if it weren't so cute.

"I'm about to run to the grocery store, want me to bring you back a Gatorade or something?" Davey chuckles. "You look a little rough, Jackie."

Jack isn't sure if his stomach can handle anything other than water and plain toast just yet, but the offer of a sweet drink is rather enticing. Electrolytes or whatever are good for you, right?

"I like the red kind," he mumbles, shooting Davey a grateful thumbs-up as he lets his arm fall back over his face to block out the light from the windows. He _really_ can't drink like he could in college. "You're the best."

"What would you do without me?" Davey laughs. God, he's so fucking nice. "I'll be back soon!"

-

Jack is back on his feet within a couple hours. Maybe the Gatorade is really what helps, maybe the hangover just fades away on its own, but the important part is that he feels _much_ better.

Physically, at least.

He's painting again— something he's been too tired to do for most of this week— but it's not exactly going well. He's getting more and more frustrated with every brush stroke because nothing is turning out the way he wants it to. His lines are too harsh; his colours are all muddy; and the worse his painting looks, the angrier he gets with himself, which only makes him less and less able to actually paint because he can't focus and the _stupid_ fucking stress tics won't go away and he's so _tired_ but he needs to get this done and—

Okay.

He's spiralling. He can recognize that he's spiralling, which is a good start, so he makes the executive decision to drop his paintbrush and walk away. He even resists the urge to kick his easel over as he leaves his room; he needs a glass of water or something to calm down.

"Feeling better?" Davey asks, looking up when Jack walks in. He's curled up on the couch with his laptop, probably working. "You look less like you're about to pass out, so that must be good."

Jack laughs softly, immediately feeling more relaxed now that he's out of his room— maybe the paint fumes were getting to him in there.

"I definitely feel less dead," he replies, and then he cuts himself off mid-sentence to toss his head back in a jerky motion that makes his shoulders tense up for a second. He then sighs, annoyed. "Been doing _that_ a lot lately. It's getting fucking annoying."

"Shit," Davey says, with a concerned and sort of pitying frown. They've lived together long enough that he's seen Jack's tics come and go a few times, usually popping up for a week or two and then leaving him alone for months, but Davey manages to worry for him every time. "Are you okay?"

Jack shrugs.

"Fine, I guess. Work's just crazy these days, and I think it's getting to me." He stops in the doorway to the kitchen. "Are you busy right now?"

Davey looks down at his computer, taps the keyboard a little, and the smiles back up at Jack.

"Nope! I just finished up what I was doing."

"Wanna sit and model for some sketches?" Jack asks, with the sweetest grin he can possibly muster. "I can't focus on painting, so switching mediums for a bit might help."

Davey always gets so embarrassed when Jack asks to draw him, but he's such a good sport that he always goes along with it anyways. Jack has sketches upon sketches of him— it's practically muscle memory to shade in the curve of his nose and the soft angle of his jaw by this point.

"What are you gonna do with all these pictures of boring old me?" Davey sighs, which Jack takes as reluctant permission to go get some charcoal and paper. "I'm not much to look at, so what's the point?"

"You've got a good face," Jack replies from the kitchen, which he's sure makes Davey roll his eyes. "Seriously! I just like drawing you. And every time you say _you_ don't look good, you're also saying my _art_ doesn't look good... awfully rude if you ask me."

"Very funny," says Davey, dryly. "Your art is so good because you can take a boring face like mine and make it look interesting— that takes talent."

Again with the self-deprecation... Jack shakes his head as he finally pours his cup of water, and it's not even a tic. He's really just sad that Davey can't see himself the way everyone else does. One of these days he'll figure out what it takes to help him.

-

Matt arrives just before dinner, and Jack has made an internal resolution with himself to play fair and be nice. He at least owes the guy a chance.

Davey greets him at the door with a kiss and they talk quietly with each other for moment, while Jack sits in an armchair and plays on his phone to pretend he isn't losing his mind. He's been texting Crutchie about the whole mess— he doesn't really know Davey and definitely doesn't know Matt, so he's the perfect neutral third party to bitch to.

 **Jack** : _he just got here and im already annoyed :/ this is gonna be hard_

 **Crutchie** : _you're seriously so mean dude, just give him a chance hahahah he might impress you!_

Before Jack can reply, Davey finally pulls him into the conversation.

"And this is my roommate, Jack!"

Jack forces himself to set his phone aside and stand up to shake hands with Matt. Even his _face_ is annoying— something about his expression just screams condescension.

"Good to finally meet you," Matt laughs. "Putting a face to the name is nice."

Jack laughs along, because if there's one thing he's particularly good at, it's being _fake_. He can be polite to anyone, no matter the circumstances,

"Right? It's great to finally meet in person."

He sits back down, and Davey and Matt follow suit to make themselves comfortable on the couch. The way Davey leans into his side, for whatever reason, makes Jack's stomach twist a little.

"You know," Matt says, jabbing Davey's ribs gently with his elbow, all playful and teasing, "if you had a _real_ job, you probably wouldn't even need a roommate."

Hurt flashes across Davey's face for a moment— probably too quick for anyone who doesn't know him as well as Jack does to catch— and he quickly laughs it off, though his smile is insincere. Jack, on the other hand, isn't so inclined to let that slip past.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" he asks, careful to match Matt's playful tone, but still letting a slight edge to his voice slip through. "Davey's got a perfectly good job."

"Oh please," Matt laughs, dismissively. "He does _charity work_. That's barely a profession."

Jack frowns now, not able to keep playing it cool with a comment like that. Davey's smile has dropped even further, and Jack feels some kind of primal urge to defend his friend.

"He's the _director_ of a nonprofit. He _runs_ the charity— it's not like it's a volunteer position." The feeling of talking about Davey as if he isn't there is unsettling, so he turns his attention over. "Davey, you do amazing work out there."

It's insanely impressive, really— Davey started a nonprofit with his sister, straight out of college, and it's become an incredible organization in the handful of years it's been running. It's all about helping kids become community leaders: they run workshops, give out scholarships, connect with other charities to set up volunteer opportunities. They even help kids out with college applications to get them headed in the right direction— most of the volunteer work Jack sets up for his students is through Davey and Sarah.

"Thanks," Davey laughs, clearly a little uncomfortable. He lets a hand rest on Matt's chest as if he's worried things could actually escalate into some sort of fight. "I mean, I love my job, and it's not about the money. I like living with Jack too— he's my best friend. I don't think I'd want to live alone anyways."

Matt laughs again, and turns his head to kiss Davey's cheek.

"I know, babe, chill. I was just joking." He shoots Jack a quick sort of side-eye, without Davey even noticing. " _Obviously_. I think your little job is great."

Davey seems to accept the non-apology, and the knot in Jack's stomach twists even further. Maybe he's being too uptight and defensive, but he certainly didn't appreciate Matt's alleged _joke_. He's of the opinion that jokes ought to be funny, and Matt was just being downright rude. Davey doesn't seem to mind, though, so it probably isn't Jack's place to get offended for him— to each their own when it comes to senses of humour, perhaps.

The rest of the evening is fairly uneventful. Dinner is good— it always is when Davey's cooking— and Matt doesn't make any more weird comments. He's exactly as boring, in most respects, and Jack had picked up from their text conversations before the blind date. He's sweet to Davey— almost overly-so, which gives off a bit of a weird vibe in Jack's opinion— and he makes polite conversation with Jack despite the weird start to the night.

Everything is _fine_. Jack has every reason to believe that there's nothing wrong with him, and his bad joke was just a one-off thing— maybe he was nervous to be visiting his new boyfriend's place for the first time, and his mouth got ahead of his brain. He really, really isn't that bad. He's good for Davey: he makes him smile, and he seems to have him totally smitten.

Still, even with all that considered, Jack really can't stop himself from hating his guts. He can't quite figure out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo.... thoughts on matt? i'd like to hear what everyone thinks of him. is jack being irrational in not liking him or does he deserve it?
> 
> next update should be soonish since i've already started the next chapter!! :) please leave kudos / a comment in the meantime!!


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> buzzfeed quizzes, beyonce, and brunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, here we go! this is my favourite chapter i've written so far for this fic, and i think you'll see why. it's a load of fun, and there's definitely a lot going on lol
> 
> no content warnings for this chapter, so go ahead and enjoy!! :)
> 
> (p.s. thank you for all the lovely comments on chapter 3!! i'm thrilled that so many people are enjoying this story so far!!)

_How do you know if you're gay?_

Jack feels like an idiot as he types it into Google. It's not as if he's asking for himself or anything— he's just curious. He's been wondering, but he knows most of his friends would probably just laugh at him if he asked, so to the internet it is.

The first page he opens starts talking about sex dreams right off the bat, which makes him cringe a little. That would certainly be a way to find out, he supposes— and although, once again, he didn't look this up for himself, he still takes that as confirmation that he's probably not gay. While he finds plenty of men attractive in an objective sort of way, he's never even considered having sex with a guy, and he can't say he particularly wants to either. He's a little grossed out by the idea of doing anal even with a girl, let alone when it would be the only option with a guy— that simply seems like somewhere that things should exclusively be coming _out_ of, not going into. To each their own, but Jack is rather decidedly not interested.

He keeps scrolling down the page, and the rest of the article still doesn't really help answer his questions. It goes on about how everyone's unique and labels don't really mean anything at the end of the day, but Jack just wants to _know_. Does it feels different to like guys than it does to like girls? He personally feels rather neutral about it— anyone could be equally attractive in his mind, and he dates girls because that's just what he _does_. It makes more sense to him. How does the switch flip to make you want to date guys instead? Is it not just pretty much exactly the same thing?

Just out of plain old curiosity, he returns to the search bar and types in: _Am I gay quiz._ The first result is from Buzzfeed, so he doesn't exactly trust its accuracy, but he clicks on it anyways.

 _Choose a colour_. Can colours even _be_ gay? This feels a little ridiculous, but he chooses blue and continues on.

 _Pick a Beyoncé song._ Okay... this is officially pointless. The result won't mean shit, but Jack does have stronger opinions about Beyoncé songs than he figures the average straight male might, so it's a no-brainer to choose Flawless.

There's a handful more questions, all as silly as the first two, and he clicks his way through them. He's not sure what any of this actually has to do with being gay, but he's curious about what his result will be so he just keep going. He hovers his finger over the final response— even if this stupid Buzzfeed quiz says he's gay, that doesn't change anything. Why is he so nervous?

 _You're a little bit gay!_ the screen reads. _In general you are physically and emotionally attracted to people of the opposite sex, but you're open to the idea that maybe the one for you could be in the same sex._

Huh. Jack stares at the screen for a moment, not sure how to react. Not that the quiz was particularly meaningful— it was incredibly stupid, really— but he's a little caught off-guard by the result. _Could_ he be a little bit gay? No, he surely would've realized it sooner if he were. He's nearly thirty and he's only even been with girls, so it simply wouldn't make sense to switch it up now, would it?

He sighs and closes his laptop. This is useless. He still hasn't found the answer he's looking for about how one knows for sure that they're gay, and he's not sure why he cares so much, but at this point he might as well just ask— he's pretty sure Davey's home, so there's no time like the present to bombard him with a weird question.

He leaves his room, and sure enough, Davey is in the kitchen. It's Sunday evening, a little over two weeks after Matt first came over, and it seems like Davey is in the process of meal-prepping his lunches for the week.

"Hey," Jack says as he walks in, which startles Davey a little. "Can I ask you something kind of random?"

Their kitchen is tiny, so Jack perches himself up to sit on an empty bit of counter space, while Davey looks up at him with an amused smile.

"Sure," he laughs, a little suspicious. "Go ahead."

Jack pauses to tic for a second, scrunching his nose and blinking hard a couple times. Thankfully, Davey doesn't react— he's either used to it by this point, or just polite enough to ignore it.

"How did you know you were gay?" Jack asks, once he's regained control of his face. "I hope that's not, like, offensive or something, but I've just been wondering."

Davey laughs abruptly, like that's the absolute last thing he was expecting Jack to ask him. He sets down the knife he'd been using to slice up vegetables and leans against the counter.

"A new kid showed up in my tenth grade English class," he says, "and I couldn't stop staring at him. He was _so_ hot, I think my little teenage brain just exploded."

"Okay, but how did you know it was _gay_?" Jack presses. "Like, what made it different from thinking any other guy is good-looking?"

Davey looks a little confused by that, and he just shrugs.

"I don't know, I wanted to kiss him?" he laughs. "I think I always sort of knew I liked boys, but this kid confirmed it— I can't even remember his name now, how awful is that?"

He always knew. Okay. This is sort of a trend Jack has noticed: Race never had a moment of realizing he liked girls, Davey always knew he liked boys— this has to be the kind of thing you notice as a teenager, right? If, hypothetically, Jack _were_ gay, he would know it by now. It wouldn't be dawning on him well into adulthood.

"Okay, I have another question," he adds, and when Davey nods, he continues. "You really like Beyoncé, right? Hey, don't laugh— there's a point to this."

Davey does in fact laugh, and Jack is captivated by his smile.

"Yes," Davey says. "I do love Beyoncé."

"Is there a correlation there?" Jack feels like a total dumbass, but he's genuinely wondering. "Like, is it a comorbidity or something?"

Davey breaks. He bursts into laughter, doubling over and holding onto the counter. Jack can't help but laugh too— that was a stupid question and he knows it. He's _serious_ , though! It was on the Buzzfeed quiz, so it must have _something_ to do with it.

"A _comorbidity_? Oh my god..." Davey wheezes. "Okay, first of all: neither being gay or liking Beyoncé is a _disease_. Second of all: I honestly don't know why gay people love pop divas so much— I like Beyoncé because she's, like, the epitome of confidence. She can sing and dance like no one's business, and she doesn't take any shit. She's _cool_."

"But Spot likes Beyoncé too," Jack offers as he jumps down off the counter. "And _he's_ gay."

"He just has _taste_."

Jack frowns.

"He married Racetrack Higgins. I've been questioning his taste level for a while now."

Davey laughs again and shakes his head, finally turning back to his little plastic baggies of vegetables for taking to work.

"Oh come on," he sighs. "He's living every baby gay's dream— he got with his older brother's hot best friend! Didn't you set them up anyways?"

Jack rolls his eyes.

"And it haunts me every day. They're disgusting together."

"Disgustingly _cute_." Davey grins. "They're your brothers, Jack. You gotta admit they're adorable."

"Fine, I _guess_ they're a cute couple," Jack huffs, and before he can continue, he reaches out to slam his fist on the counter, almost like his muscles are jerking outside of his own control. It doesn't quite satisfy the itch-like urge to tic, so he does it a few more times, despite how much it hurts. " _Ouch_ ," he groans, finally pulling his hand back and holding it to his chest. "These fucking tics, man, I swear to god. They just keep getting worse."

Davey grimaces, and oh-so subtly moves the knife he'd been using for his veggies out of Jack's reach, just in case an urge to grab it should arise.

"Do you know what's causing them?" he asks. "Like, they don't usually just show up out of nowhere, right?"

"Stress, I guess," Jack grumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Work's been crazy and I've just been... _off_. Not really feeling like myself, if that makes sense." He sighs. "I just need to make it to spring break. I'll be fine."

Truthfully, he doesn't really feel like work alone has been stressful enough for the tics to get _this_ bad. They're every few minutes now— constant twitching and jerking— and they've been getting more disruptive and annoying as the days go by. There's got to be something else that's bugging him, but he can't dig deep enough into the back of his brain to determine just what it is— he ought to go to therapy about it or something, but his last guy retired a while ago and he hasn't been bothered to find a new one yet.

"That's still a good month away," Davey notes. "Maybe you need an early break— just take some time off to recharge, you know?"

Jack huffs.

"Everyone keeps telling me that." He once again interrupts himself to toss his head back, one of his most common tics. He winces a little at the near-whiplash sensation in his neck. "I'm _fine_ , though. If I take time off, I'll just have more to do when I get back. It'll be easier if I just stick with it."

Davey frowns, but doesn't seem to have a counter-argument for that. The work piling up would really just make things more stressful. Jack is sort of between a rock and a hard place, with no real way out besides waiting until the break comes along and he can reset his brain a little.

"Try going to bed early tonight, then," Davey sighs, like he's desperate to at least contribute _something_ helpful. "Maybe that'll help a little. It wouldn't do any harm, at least."

Jack smiles and laughs softly, appreciating the well-intentioned effort. It's late enough in the evening that getting ready for bed doesn't sound half bad.

"Can do, Doctor Jacobs," he teases, which makes Davey rolls his eyes. "I'll see you in the morning."

-

Monday is a shitshow, to put it lightly.

" _No_ , I don't feel bad," Smalls snaps, sitting in Jack's office with her arms folded over her chest. "Bitches who talk shit get hit! She was talking about me, so she got what she had coming."

There's a scratch on Smalls' cheek from another girl's acrylic nails, and Jack genuinely can't believe this is something he's having to deal with right now. Smalls is a smart girl, if a little short-tempered, and he truly thought she knew better than to go around getting into fights.

"Isabella," he sighs, which makes her scowl at the mention of her real name. "Seriously... I'm not mad at you, I just want an _actual_ explanation. You've been doing so well lately, where did this even come from?"

"I _told_ you." Smalls rolls her eyes. "She was running her mouth, so I ran up on her— she deserved it."

Jack runs a hand over his face and sighs again, frustrated.

"Care to tell me _what_ she was saying? Because I had her in my office twenty minutes ago, and she was telling me a very different story."

The girl Smalls was fighting with had alleged that she didn't even know why the fight had started— she was minding her business, and Smalls swung first. She didn't know why Smalls would want to fight her in the first place, or why it had escalated today.

"She's a _liar_! Whatever she told you is full of shit. She told people that me and Romeo were hooking up— which is _ridiculous_! She was obviously just saying it to make fun of Romeo for being gay, which is so beyond fucked up, so I couldn't just let her _say_ that-"

"Okay," Jack interrupts. "Okay. Let's think about this... how do you _know_ that's what she was trying to do? What are the odds, do you think, that this was just a bad joke that got taken out of context? Maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to say, but we don't know for sure that she was trying to hurt either of your feelings." Smalls' face pinches angrily, but she doesn't seem to have a rebuttal for that. "You know how fast stuff like this spreads— maybe the wrong person overheard it and thought she was being serious. When I was talking to her earlier, it _really_ didn't seem like she was out to get you. I want you to seriously consider if maybe this was a misunderstanding... there's nothing wrong with making a mistake."

 _Hostile attribution bias_ — it's something he was briefed on in school. Kids from vulnerable backgrounds, such as a tumultuous home life like Smalls', tend to assume people are out to hurt them so they go ahead and draw their own conclusions about it. Jack was very much like that at her age— even accidental slights felt like personal attacks, and he'd get angry and aggressive about it. It took a lot of therapy and support from Medda to work through, but he got there.

Smalls is quiet for a long moment, seemingly thinking it over, and growing a little embarrassed.

"Hey..." Jack continues when she doesn't respond. "I've been there, okay? I got in _way_ too many fights in high school, and if I'm being honest, most of them were my fault, because I was so scared that people were trying to hurt me that I wanted to hurt them first. I didn't want anyone to have the chance to get the first blow in." He pauses. "Does that sound familiar?"

Finally, Smalls nods.

"I'm sorry," she sighs. "I feel really stupid."

"You're not stupid. _Definitely_ not. I'm really proud that you've got it in you to reflect on yourself like this— it's really mature of you." He glances at the clock. "If you still need time to cool off, you can stay here until your next class. I want you to come back at the end of the day so we can finish getting this sorted with everyone involved, alright?"

"Okay," she mumbles. "Thanks, Jack."

"Thank _you_ , Smalls, for letting me help you. I know it's tough." He smiles, and she finally smiles back. "You're a good kid."

-

After that mess of a day, Jack passes out on the couch after work, yet again.

He has no clue how long he's been sleeping when he finally wakes up— long enough for Davey to get home, since there's been a blanket laid over him at some point. He's snuggled right into it and wakes up feeling very cozy and rested, which is a pleasant surprise. He's too cozy to move just yet, so he simply stays there with his eyes closed, basking in a rare moment of calm.

"Hi babe," Davey's voice carries in from the kitchen, and he must be on the phone with Matt. "Yeah, I'm just hanging out at home with Jack. I'm making dinner right now."

A pause.

"Well, what if we do lunch tomorrow instead? I'd love to come over, but I kind of need a night in tonight— I'm behind on a couple things for work, so I have to do some overtime and figure that out, y'know?" He laughs a little, but it quickly dies out. "What? No, of course I want to see you! It wouldn't make sense for me to come all the way to your place just to work, though— we can FaceTime tonight, and then hang out tomorrow when I'm not so busy, if that works?"

Yet another pause, during which Jack feels a little bad for eavesdropping, but his morbid curiosity wins out and he doesn't move.

"I'm _sorry_ ," Davey sighs, sounding very small and insecure. It makes Jack's stomach turn a little. "I _really_ can't tonight, I have a deadline for this paperwork, and— I know. I should've been more on top of it in the first place. It's my fault." He's quiet for a second. "You're right, okay? I'm sorry. I really do want to see you, Matt— tomorrow, I promise. I'll come straight over after work."

Jack's bad feeling about Matt is starting to feel slightly less irrational now. Obviously he's only hearing one side of the conversation, so there's a chance he's overthinking— but something about this little argument doesn't sit right. He's not sure if it's just new-relationship possessiveness that's going on here, since they've only been together a few weeks and they've both fallen hard and fast, but Matt not even being considerate of Davey having to work tonight is veering into _way too controlling_ red flag territory.

"Bye," Davey mumbles. "Okay... okay. I'll see you tomorrow." There's a pause, a clatter like he's thrown his phone on the counter, and then he continues in a whisper, talking to himself. "God _..._ I fuck _everything_ up, don't I?"

Jack's heart breaks a little. In a way, this is his own fault for setting Davey up with Matt— it was just supposed to make him _happy_. That's all he wanted. How did he manage to mess up this badly?

He pushes himself up from the couch, and the moment he walks into the kitchen, Davey is quick to plaster a smile on his face.

"You're up! You sure look refreshed— I threw a frozen pizza in the oven since I wasn't sure what to make, but I added some fresh ingredients on top. It'll be ready soon."

Jack forces himself to return the smile.

"Sweet, I'm always down for pizza." His head tics to the side a couple times, like it's been doing all day. Thankfully no one at work has brought it up at all, though some people have definitely noticed. "I, uh, didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I overhead some of that phone call— everything okay? You sounded kinda down."

He doesn't want to admit that he heard the whole thing, since it'd be totally weird that he laid there and listened in, so playing it off like this seems more reasonable.

"Oh," Davey laughs sheepishly. "Yeah, I just have to work overtime tonight, and Matt was kind of annoyed about it. I think he must've had a long day, since he got a little grumpy when I said I couldn't hang out. It's all good, though."

His smile is a little strained, and Jack just watches him for a second, trying to figure out if he overdramatized the situation in his head when he overheard it, or if Davey is just skilled at pretending he's not upset. He catches just enough of a falter in Davey's expression for it to click that he's lying through his teeth about being _all good_.

"Need a hug?"

Davey looks confused for a split second, realizes Jack has seen right through him, and ultimately just sighs.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

They wrap their arms around each other, and Jack's heart ties itself in a knot. It dawns on him in this moment just how deeply he cares for Davey— he's such an incredible friend, and he deserves the best life has to offer. If only Jack could give that to him.

-

Friday night finds Jack on the phone with Race.

Davey is over at Matt's again, just like almost every night this week— they must've fixed things after their little spat— and the solitude at home is starting to drive Jack insane. He's never been good at living alone; it's the whole reason he joined a frat in college, since living in a house full of people meant he'd never be bored by himself. When he runs out of silly little tasks to occupy himself, he can usually go bother Davey, but now he's all alone in the apartment and it _sucks_.

It's really getting to him now, it seems, considering that he had a fucking _dream_ about Davey last night.

It wasn't a weird sex dream, like that article he read on the weekend had mentioned, thank god. It was utterly domestic— life was entirely the same, but he and Davey were together. Dream-Davey came home from work and kissed Dream-Jack on the lips before their evening went on like usual. Watching TV together in the evening turned into cuddling on the couch, and then they both went to bed in Jack's room. It was so _normal_ that it threw Jack for a bit of a loop.

He woke up in his own bed this morning, and when Davey wasn't beside him, he was disappointed for a moment. He _wanted_ Davey to be there, for some reason.

"I have a question for you," he says, his phone sitting on the table with the call on speaker while he paints. "It's kind of random."

" _Ask away_ ," Race replies.

"Okay," Jack says, " _hypothetically_ , if you had a friend who was questioning whether or not he's totally straight... what would you say to him?"

There's a moment of quiet where Race seems to process the question, and then it must dawn on him what exactly Jack's trying to ask him because he laughs softly.

" _I'd tell my hypothetical friend that he can always come talk to me about it, since I have a lot of experience with not being straight. I care about this friend a lot— hypothetically, of course— so I'd do everything I can to help him figure it out._ "

Jack lets out a deep breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding.

"Wanna get brunch tomorrow?"

" _With you, or with my hypothetical friend?_ "

He can hear the smile in Race's voice and he just rolls his eyes.

"Very funny. Let's do that place just off 2nd Avenue we went to a couple months ago. Does ten work?"

-

They've ordered their food, and Race is watching Jack expectantly, waiting for him to bring up the whole reason they're here. Jack's rather enjoying fucking with him by pretending everything's normal, and he wants to see how long it'll take for the elephant in the room to burst out of Race's mouth.

Patience has never been a virtue that Antonio Higgins has ever possessed, so within a grand total of about five minutes, his curiosity wins out.

"So, you like guys now?" he asks, interrupting Jack's oh-so boring commentary about the weather.

Jack can't help but laugh.

"I don't _know_... that's the problem."

"Well, you came to the right place, Kelly," Race grins. "I'm so glad to be your gay mentor, you're like my little apprentice."

Jack rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm still, like, seventy percent sure I'm straight. I'm just... _questioning_ some things, and I figured I could use your input."

Race hums and nods, leaning back in his seat.

"Got it. Tell me what's on your mind, bro."

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe Jack should've kept all this to himself— it's stupid, isn't it? Just because he's been having some slightly-more-than-friendly feelings about Davey doesn't mean he's _gay_. He's just lonely, and maybe a little jealous that Davey is in a relationship; and lord knows the stress from work has been doing weird things to his brain— he's been gently punching his own leg under the table for several minutes, trying to control the urge to let out a more explosive tic. He's actually driving himself insane, so there's no way these feelings are real.

"There's a _boy_ ," he finally sighs, "and I can't stop thinking about him. It's so stupid."

"You have a crush?"

"No!" Jack exclaims, probably a bit too quickly. "Definitely not. I just... _ugh_. I can't get him off my mind, and I keep noticing all these things about him like his stupid fucking smile, and I know if he were a girl I'd probably be into him, but he's _not._ I don't know what to do."

Race stares at him for a second, looking something between amused at the situation and concerned for Jack's well-being.

"Let me get this straight," he eventually says. "The _only_ thing stopping you from admitting that you have a crush on Davey is the fact that he's a man?"

"I _guess_!" Jack groans, dramatically. He suddenly freezes. "Wait— how did you know it was Davey?"

Race gives him a look.

"Come _on_ , dude. You look at him like the sun shines out of his asshole."

Jack buries his head in his hands, willing the floor to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. This is awful. Not only does he _totally_ have a crush on Davey, but he must've been painfully obvious about it, because Race is notoriously oblivious about most things and still managed to catch on.

"Fuck," Jack grumbles. " _Fuck!_ Do you think he knows!?"

"As if," Race laughs. "This is Davey we're talking about— he wouldn't notice you drooling over him if it dripped on his fucking face." Jack recoils a little at the disgusting metaphor. "I only noticed because I've known you since we were ten, and I watched you fall in love with a different girl every week in high school. I know your _I have a crush_ face."

Jack rolls his eyes and huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

"So what do I _do_? Davey has a boyfriend, first of all, and I'm also _not gay_. This is a disaster."

"You're in love with a man," Race says, deadpan. "I think you might be a little bit gay."

"I'm _not_." Jack snaps. He then pauses, sighs, and rubs a hand over his face as he feels himself deflate. "Okay... maybe a little. But only for Davey."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh self-discovery... what a journey jack has been on in this chapter, aren't we proud of him?? he's finally getting his head on straight! or should i say... gay ;) hahaha
> 
> so far the general consensus, going by last update's comments, is that everyone hates matt just as much as jack does, and i imagine we're still feeling pretty similar? lol what a dick i'm sorry for putting davey through this (but not really because i love hurting characters)
> 
> please leave a comment! feel free to yell at me for any feelings you might be having about these poor characters, i promise things will get better eventually (but no guarantee that they won't get worse first!) see ya next chapter!!


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the only way forward is to look back ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go babeyyyy!! i finished my hw early today and i finally got this chapter done!
> 
> about half the chapter is about lil baby teenage jack, which really isn't THAT plot-relevant, but definitely gives a little more insight into why he is the way he is. it was also just fun to write, i love a good flashback!
> 
> content warning for a fairly graphic tic attack- if reading about it might trigger one for you, just scroll past from where jack is playing video games to where the paragraphs break with a dash in between to change scenes. i'll put a quick synopsis of that scene in the end notes just in case anyone chooses to skip it! also, i think it's well past time to make sure i warn properly for the whole thing going on with matt- it's going to get pretty darn toxic and he's very manipulative. it won't get suuuper detailed at all, but it definitely is part of the plot! please please be careful reading if this might stir up bad memories/feelings. i'm going to add "emotional abuse" to the tags just to play it safe.
> 
> all that being said, this chapter is angtsy yet cute, and i'll stop rambling! please enjoy!!

Jack Kelly is sixteen years old, sitting in his social worker's office with an immovable scowl on his face and his arms folded over his chest.

"I don't want to see you go back to juvie, Jack. That's the _last_ thing I want... but I don't know how many more strings I can pull to keep you out, okay? You're still on probation, so you absolutely can'tbe getting in fights like this. I _know_ you know better."

Jack simply shrugs, keeping his gaze glued to the floor. The juvenile detention center he spent four months in was hell on earth, and Warden Snyder may as well have been the devil himself, so he certainly doesn't want to go back. He just can't control his temper sometimes, and it's so much easier to be angry than it is to be nice, so he finds himself fighting and acting out at school without even realizing what he's doing— he doesn't _want_ to be a bad kid, but he doesn't know how to be anything else.

Brian Denton is a patient man, and he's used to the silence by now, having been Jack's case worker for a couple of years. He simply sighs and moves on.

"I found a foster placement that I think is gonna be really good for you," he says. "If you give it a chance, I think this home might really suit you. You have to be willing to try, though."

"Is it another group home?" Jack grumbles, a little cynical in regards to the idea of landing in an actual happy family. He's _difficult_. Parents don't like him, and his placements never last long.

"Nope," Denton says. "Just a mom and one kid, a few years younger than you. I used to be his case worker too— he's a little shy, but I think you'll like him once you get to know each other. You have a lot in common."

Outwardly, Jack doesn't let his expression change, but on the inside he's sort of relieved. After months in juvie and then being released into a crowded group home, he's absolutely sick of being constantly surrounded by other kids. A small family might actually be the change he needs— having some personal space might keep him from getting so overwhelmed and angry. Even though it probably won't last long, he's going to savour this for as long as he can before they inevitably get tired of him and send him back into the system.

"I think this could finally be the right family for you, Jack." Denton smiles, and he leans down a little to try and catch Jack's eye-line, as if he's trying to coax him into smiling back. "Seriously. I know it's been a long road to get here, but if you really try your best to open up and give this a shot, I think you'll be really happy. Trust me on this, okay?"

Jack sighs. At the end of the day, he _does_ trust Denton. He's a really genuine guy, and he's gone above and beyond what Jack would've expected a social worker to ever do for him. If he says this placement is going to go well, maybe it's worth it to at least _try_ not to be so jaded and give it a fair chance.

"Fine," Jack says, and he even concedes by looking up and offering a small smile. "I'll try."

-

He's been living with Medda for two months when she comes into his room after dinner and tells him she needs to talk to him.

His stomach sinks. He's _really_ been doing his best, but it clearly isn't good enough— she's sick of him already. He at least appreciates that she's come to tell him about it, instead of Denton just showing up to come pick him up and take him back to the group home without any warning. That's the worst, when he's only got a couple minutes to throw all his clothes in a garbage bag and head out— at least now he'll have a chance to get organized.

"I had a chat with your social worker this afternoon," she says, sitting down the edge of his bed. Jack can't help but sigh, knowing exactly what's coming. He's not surprised, but he is disappointed— he actually really likes living here. Medda is so kind, her home is _really_ nice, and even Spot is pretty cool as far as thirteen year-olds go. He's genuinely happy in a foster placement, for once.

"You've been doing really well, and your probation is up in a month, so we're starting to look at getting you back into school," she continues. "I don't want to make any big decisions without your input, so we just need to talk about how _you_ want this to go."

 _Oh_. Jack blinks. That's not at all what he was expecting.

One of the strings Denton pulled to keep him out of juvie was convincing his probation officer to let him try homeschooling first— basically one step short of house arrest. He's been doing well as far as staying out of trouble, since he can't get into fights when he doesn't actually see anyone, but he's absolutely bored out of his _mind_. Doing his classes online has been torture, and the only reason his grades have gone up a little is because he has nothing else to do with his time (and, of course, because Medda helps with most of his assignments).

"I really want to go back," Jack finally says, after taking a moment to process that he isn't actually getting kicked out tonight. Medda still wants him, enough so that she's making long-term plans for him. "I miss my friends a lot, and I _promise_ I've learned my lesson. I'll never get in a fight again. I'll be _so_ good."

Medda laughs softly.

"That's what I thought you'd say. I'd really like to see you go back too— not that I don't love hanging out with you all day, but I'm sure you're tired of my company. We just need to make sure we have a good plan for the next few weeks so that you can have a smooth transition."

Jack nods along, trying not to show just how excited he is. The prospect of actually getting to be a normal teenager again has felt out of reach for ages, but now it's finally coming— he'll go back to school, and maybe even have a more reasonable curfew than the 7PM his probation requires, so that he can go hang out with his friends in the evenings. The stupid mistake he'd made over half a year ago— picking a fight with the wrong kid, which landed him with assault charges— will stop breathing so closely down his neck in just a month.

"How would you feel about going to see a psychologist?" Medda continues. "Brian said you've had some bad experiences with therapy before, but I think now might be a good time to give it another try. It would just be about getting you ready to go back to school— you'd never have to talk about anything you're not comfortable with."

Jack's gaze drops to the floor. His last shrink was a real jerk— poking and prodding about childhood trauma he wasn't ready to talk about, and being horribly dismissive about his feelings. Every session ended with Jack losing his temper and cursing him out, so he's not exactly enthused about trying that again— he switched to doing online anger management classes and they've been a much better fit.

"I know a psychologist who's done a lot of great work with Spot," she adds, when he's been quiet for too long. "That doesn't necessarily mean she'll be the _perfect_ fit for you, but it's somewhere to start. I'd really like it if you tried a couple sessions."

"I guess I could try," Jack finds himself replying. He doesn't want to go to therapy at _all_ , but he's still sort of desperate to impress Medda, so he'll do whatever she wants if it means she'll keep him for longer. "Like... if you think it's a good idea. I can try it."

She smiles, and Jack realizes that it feels _really_ nice to make her happy.

"I'm so proud of you, Jack," she says. "Is it alright if I give you a hug?"

Usually, Jack would say no. She asks if he'd like a hug every night before he goes to bed, and he's never felt comfortable with it— he's got a bit of an aversion to being touched. He feels weird about affection, especially from parental figures, maybe because it's simply not something he's used to. Today, though, he thinks he might be ready.

"Yeah," he says, and then he leans in to wrap his arms around her. Her hug is warm and gentle, and Jack finds it makes him feel rather safe. "Thank you, Medda."

-

He has his first tic attack a week before his seventeenth birthday.

He's been back in school for a few months, and he's had a few on-and-off motor tics for about the same amount of time. What was supposed to be a couple therapy sessions to get ready to go back to real life turned into an ADHD diagnosis, a referral to a psychiatrist, and an Adderall prescription. It's been working great: he can focus better, his temper doesn't flare as quickly, and he's finding it easier to control his impulses to be too loud and excitable. He's had almost _no_ incidents at school and hasn't had a single detention since he came back.

The tics are apparently a totally normal side effect— he's taking a stimulant twice a day after all, so his brain has some energy to burn— and he doesn't really mind them all that much. Being a little twitchy sometimes is a small sacrifice to make in exchange for how much the medication has actually helped.

He's sitting on the living room floor, playing video games after school with Spot, when the attack starts. His tics usually stay small and concentrated to his head and his hands— winking, snapping his fingers, that kind of thing— but he suddenly gets the urge to pound his fist against the coffee table in front of him. He does it a few times, trying to scratch the mental itch, and it finally passes.

"Woah," Spot laughs as it happens, from where he's sprawled on the couch. "New tic? That's a fun one."

" _So_ fun," Jack replies with an eye roll. He hopes that one doesn't stick around, since it would probably be disruptive and embarrassing in class. He tries to start playing again, but he jerks his head back so suddenly that it makes him drop his controller in surprise. " _Ouch_! Oh, I hate that one. It makes my neck all-"

He hits himself in the face, interrupting his own sentence. It hurts, but the urge to do it again is so overpowering, like lighting running through his arm, that he lets it happen. _One, two, three, four_ times, and then he's free from that tic, but the next follows almost immediately. It's like the muscles in his shoulders and neck are spasming, jerking his head back over and over, while his right hand gets stuck in a loop of snapping his fingers and hitting his fist on the table.

Spot has stopped laughing now, and Jack himself is starting to get a little scared— his body is moving outside of his control, and the tics don't seem to want to stop. When his neck finally relaxes, it becomes a cycle of all his different tics: clapping his hands, shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, all interrupted by neck spasms and knee jerks.

"I can't _stop_ ," he manages to choke out between tics. He hits his face again, the heel of his hand striking his cheekbone with a significant amount of force. "I can't! I can't—"

"Mom!" Spot shouts, springing off the couch and running to the kitchen. Jack feels horrible that this had to happen in front of his kid brother, since it must be terrifying to watch. "Something's wrong with Jack!"

For over twenty minutes, he tics non-stop. There's nothing Medda can do for him when she comes rushing in, since he's helpless to control his own body, but she ends up holding a throw pillow from the couch against the side of his face to lessen the impact when he hits himself. He yells and flails his limbs, and at some point he bursts into tears— breaking his long-held promise to himself that he'd never cry in front of a foster parent. He's sobbing by the end of it, when the tics finally subside and he can collapse into Medda's arms, utterly exhausted.

" _Mom_ ," Jack groans, his face pressed into her shoulder, and he realizes this is the first time he's called her that. He's only been here for six months, so maybe it's too soon, but no one has ever treated him with the care that she has, so if anyone deserves the title it's her. "I'm so tired. It _hurts_."

"I know, darling... you're okay," Medda whispers, petting his hair and holding him as he cries. "I'll call your doctor in the morning, alright? We'll figure out what's going on. You're gonna be just fine, baby."

-

"I'm _fine_ , Mom," Jack laughs into the phone. "Whatever Spot told you, he's blowing it out of proportion. The tics are back, but they're not that bad."

Davey shoots him a look from across the living room. He's home for once— Matt works some weird hours at the hospital sometimes, so they've been hanging out less this week. Jack isn't sure if that's a good or bad thing: he loves having Davey around, but having come to the realization that he's got a big fat crush on him, it's hard not to stare and give himself away.

"Okay," he continues, caving under Davey's wordless pressure, "maybe they're _kind of_ bad. But they'll go away on their own at some point, so it doesn't matter. There's nothing I can do about them."

" _You could de-stress_ ," Medda says. " _You know what happens when they get really bad._ "

"I haven't had a tic attack in like ten years, Mama. I grew out of it." His hand flaps a little at his side, and he snaps his fingers a few times. "I'm totally fine, I swear."

 _Fine_ might be a bit of a stretch— he's in the midst of a sexuality crisis and his life is quite honestly starting to feel like a terrible romcom— but he's hanging in there, even if it's just by a thread. He hasn't totally lost it, at least not yet.

" _If you say so..._ " she sighs. " _If you're ever having a hard time, you come on over and let Mom look after you, alright? You're never too old for a little love._ "

Jack laughs.

"I appreciate it. I'm seriously okay, though— work is tough, but then I just think about how hard some of those kids have it, and it's like... who am I to complain, right? I've got it good."

Davey is watching him as he speaks, having looked up from the book in his lap, and Jack can't help but wonder what he's thinking. Despite how well they know each other from living together for two years, Davey is often hard to read, as he's quiet by nature and rarely wears his emotions on his face. He's the very picture of someone who was always taught to be polite, and who was often outshined by his more exuberant twin— it seems like sometimes he forgets he's got a voice of his own.

What a tangent for Jack to have spiralled off on while still on the phone with Medda, but that's not unusual these days. Ever since his enlightening conversation with Race, he simply can't get Davey out of his head. He really and truly _does_ have a crush.

" _You and that big heart of yours,_ " Medda sighs out, and Jack can practically see her shaking her head. " _I know I tell you all the time, but I'm_ so _proud of you. You've grown into an incredible young man, Jack._ "

"Keep talking like that and you'll make my head so big it falls right off my damn shoulders," Jack chuckles, though the compliment really does mean a lot. "I love you, Mama. Have a good night, okay?"

" _I love you too, baby. Let's work out a time with your brother that you can both come for dinner— David is welcome too, of course._ "

The conversation goes on a while longer as they make some tentative plans and say goodbye, and then Jack drops his phone down on the couch and finally lets his stupid neck tic go crazy— he'd been trying to hold it in while on the call, which only makes it stronger when he eventually lets it happen.

"You're invited to family dinner next weekend," he says once he's relaxed, grinning at Davey. "I think Mom's secretly trying to adopt you— she likes you better than me."

Davey laughs, setting his book aside.

"It's only fair, considering my dad thinks you're God's gift to humanity. After you and Sarah broke up, he told me it was my turn to date you so we could keep you in the family. You're his dream son-in-law— none of his kids care about football."

The butterflies in Jack's stomach promptly go insane. How can Davey just say that so _casually_ with that cheeky fucking smile on his face? It's not like he'd have any clue how crazy that idea would drive Jack, as at this point it's rather clear that he's totally oblivious to Jack's puppy love, but _god_... a few weeks ago that would have just made Jack laugh and roll his eyes, and now it's caused a full-body reaction.

"Not even Les?" Jack asks, desperately hanging onto his composure. "I thought he was a sporty little guy."

"He's dead-set on hockey," Davey replies. "There's no space in that concussion-rattled brain for any other sport."

Jack laughs— man, he loves that kid. Les is a golden retriever of a human: always kind and happy, but without a thought behind his eyes. He's still playing junior league hockey off somewhere in the Midwest, as far as Jack knows, but he's got a contract lined up with some NHL team. Hockey is one of the sports Jack doesn't really keep tabs on— football and basketball are more his style— but he'll have to start watching once Les is actually in the big leagues.

"Well, I'm happy to watch a game with your old man whenever he wants me," he says, still barely managing to play it casual. "I'll just be the random family friend that keeps showing up to things and no one really questions it."

"And I'll be the same for your family," Davey giggles. "Medda's unofficial third kid who's just there sometimes."

Wouldn't it just be easier if they were dating? Jack would never say that aloud, but he's certainly thinking it— when it's so clear that they want to be in each other's lives in the long-term, it just seems _natural_ to be more than friends. Maybe that's what this is, why Jack is smitten: he's never clicked quite so immediately with someone the way he did with Davey, and it's simply a natural progression to want him the way that he does. While Crutchie and Race, his other best friends of years longer than Davey feel more like brothers, his connection with Davey has always been unique. It's different from anyone he's ever known.

Before Jack can say anything weirdly sentimental and embarrass himself, Davey looks down at his watch.

"Oh, I guess I should text Matt." He reaches for where he left his phone on the coffee table. "Gimme a minute."

"You text him on a schedule?" Jack asks with a raised eyebrow.

Davey blushes.

"Sort of?" he laughs. "I know he's on break right now, since he's doing kind of a weird shift tonight, so I should just check in." He looks down at his screen as his phone starts to buzz, and seems almost defeated for a moment. "He's calling me. I'm gonna go take this."

He's quick to get up and leave the room, and Jack is left with a frown on his face. It's a little codependent to be texting on his breaks like that, but understandable in a honeymoon-phase new relationship. It's the fact that Davey seemed to grow nervous at the phone call that's unsettling— Jack, once again, doesn't want to eavesdrop, but their apartment is in a cheaply-made complex with walls that are practically cardboard, so it's sort of inevitable.

" _Hey, how's work, babe?... No, I'm just hanging out at home— me and Jack might watch a movie or something. He's been really stressed lately, so we're taking it easy._ "

There's a pause.

" _Oh my god, what?_ " Davey continues. " _No, there's nothing going on between us! We live together, so of course we hang out a lot, but he's my best friend and he's_ straight— _you have absolutely nothing to worry about._ "

Jack rolls his eyes so hard he swears they might fall out— Matt is such a douche. Getting jealous over Davey simply having a roommate is so beyond petty and annoying; he can't believe he fucked up this badly in setting them up.

" _Hey... no, I understand being worried. I'm sorry for having an attitude. I'm not trying to be an asshole about it_."

Jack's stomach twists. Every conversation between Davey and Matt that he's been present for has turned into Matt being irrational, yet Davey being the one to apologize. It's unsettling, and from Jack's perspective, a bit of a red flag. He doesn't know how to approach it though— Davey is so enamoured by Matt and inexperienced in relationships that he clearly doesn't see how odd this is, and Jack truthfully doesn't have enough context to make a substantial argument. He's only heard half-conversations and met Matt once, and he really wasn't _that_ bad at the time. This _sucks_.

Jack, if anything, is just going to pay more attention now. He's not sure it's time to bring it up with Davey, but he's going to be watching like a hawk for the first concrete sign that something is actually wrong here— that Davey's constant apologizing isn't just his self-deprecating nature, and that actually Matt is actually as manipulative as he seems. Without a better understanding of the situation, Davey probably won't take his concerns seriously, so Jack feels like he has no choice but to let this play out.

He has to help somehow, though. It pains him that what was supposed to make Davey happy is really just bringing him down— somehow, Jack has fucked this all up and caused the whole mess.

" _Have a good shift, okay? I'll see you tomorrow._ "

Davey returns to the living room several moments later, his phone in hand and his eyes wide.

"He said _I love you_ ," he breathes, almost panicked. "Right before he hung up, he just _said_ it. I don't— we've only been together for like a month and a half, is that too soon? It _feels_ too soon. Was I supposed to say it back? Will he be mad that I didn't?" He's spiralling too fast for Jack to get a word in as he flops down next to him on the couch. "Why did I think I could do this!? I don't know how to date, Jack! I'm doing everything wrong!"

"Woah," Jack finally cuts in, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to let his more rational side take over. "You gotta breathe, okay? You're not doing _anything_ wrong."

He takes a slow, deep breath, and Davey follows along with it. It seems to calm him down, if only slightly.

"I'm freaking out," Davey whispers, staring at Jack with those fucking _eyes_ that Jack has drawn so many times over but never truly realized the depth of. "I like him so much it _scares_ me. I don't know what I'm doing."

Jack's heart aches a little, but he nods and forces himself to smile a little.

"I get it. Love _is_ scary. You know that." Davey nods along as Jack speaks. "You're okay. If he said it and then hung up, maybe he was scared you wouldn't say it back, so he just didn't even give you the chance. Maybe he didn't think you would hear it. There's no way he was expecting anything from you here. I bet he just wanted to get it off his chest."

"Okay." Davey's breathing seems to have levelled out. "Yeah, you're right. But, like, is it too soon, do you think? I mean, you've dated more than I have— I need your input."

Jack sighs.

"I guess I've never said it before like three months in, but everyone's different. If it's freaking you out this much, it's probably a little too soon, but you don't have to say it back yet. You can tell him you're not ready, and if he really _does_ love you, he'll be okay with it."

Davey nods again.

"Right. Okay. God, how do you always know exactly what to say?"

Jack laughs a little and offers a cheeky wink.

"I'm trained in it. Knowing what to say is kinda my whole thing."

This gets Davey to laugh too, and then he all but falls forward into a hug. Jack hugs him back, holds him there, and feels his chest ache.

Maybe it's just from hugging so tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, quick summary of the tic attack scene to accommodate anyone who needed to skip it: jack has his first tic attack at medda's house when he's seventeen, it's pretty bad (he self-injures a bit and scares the shit out of spot) but she helps him through it, and he calls her "mom" for the first time afterwards. very sweet all around, but otherwise not too much substance. you didn't miss anything all that notable.
> 
> how are we hanging in there besties??? this fic is sure escalating!! matt sucks, but does he have his heart in the right place at the end of the day? jack has had such a hard go of things in life, and all this definitely isn't making it any easier. and poor davey!! he deserves so much better out of a first relationship.
> 
> i love love love reading comments, so please leave one if you've read this far!! thank you so much, lovely readers!!!


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